


Pledge myself to you

by lawlipoppie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, dick thirst, sappy shit aaaaaay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 15:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17921681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawlipoppie/pseuds/lawlipoppie
Summary: Sehun comes home to find his boyfriend fingering himself on the couch.





	Pledge myself to you

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't feel sorry ONE BIT for the turn this takes U.U
> 
> THANK YOU WIFEY FOR THE ROAST I LOVE YOU MY BUB
> 
> Enjoy :D :D :D

 

 

 

 

Sehun doesn’t get to slide his foot into the left slipper. He stops at the entrance of the living room, blazer half tumbling down his shoulders,  nearly dropping the box of takeout in his hand. 

The breeze is blowing through the new cherry patterned curtains Baekhyeon got in his new bout of  _ vintage touches _ . Sehun still hasn’t gotten used to their brightness. A can of aloe drink on the table, which he only gets from the supermarket he does his bi-weekly grocery shopping at. A new umbrella on the counter, tag attached, because he forgot his previous one in the subway. It’s blue, sky blue, galaxy blue. Mongryeong’s food bowl only has a few granules left at the bottom. Sehun peeks towards the bedroom – the door is left ajar, and the angle lets him see small Mongryeong cuddled up in his bed, sleeping. Baekhyeon insisted they put the bed in the bedroom, because he’s still a baby, and he would be lonely and scared to sleep far from them. He sleeps a lot now. He will wake up around midnight, finish his bowl, and then he will bug them to play.  

And then there’s Baekhyeon himself, spread out on the couch, one hand in his hair, fresh, wispy curls wound around his fingers, his work turtleneck bunched up chest, under his pits. It’s the ruby red one, cashmere, that Sehun got him. His bare legs open, one climbed on the back of the couch, and two fingers urgently dipping in and out of himself. In his throat, thin, disjoined susurrations, his eyes pleat shut.

Sehun watches. Because it’s really pretty. He’s usually there with him, close, under his skin and his bones and the dark beyond. He doesn’t get to see it from afar often. It’s picturesque, the disarrayed background and the dynamic focus. It’s pretty. He’s pretty.

The frustration in his fingers is obvious by the changing angle of his wrist. The strain. The canting of his hips, looking to meet the thrust of his fingers, and only mistiming, clashing, indecorous.

Sehun shuffles into his slippers properly. Not even the sound of the rigid sole rubbing on the hardwood floor attracts his attention. He steps in a little closer.

He sees the frown between Baekhyeon’s brows. Usually it only has two lines, a third appearing only in extreme occasions. Now there’s three. The maximum. A third finger seeks refuge between the two others, working together inside himself. His toes curl.

“What if someone else entered?” Sehun asks, a pilling to his voice – he feels like he is holding himself together but he’s not, he’s dismantling before Baekhyeon, for too many reasons to count. “Like your mother or something.”

She’s known to do that despite how many times she was told not to. But she usually comes over with food and Baekhyeon can’t berate her  _ that _ much.

Baekhyeon gasps, a cry strangled into it, as his eyes locate Sehun at the end of the room. One frown line vanishes. His fingers halt.

“Finally” he breathes. And it’s dry, wiry, too desperate to have any structure.

A shiver riots through Sehun, petering towards his skin, singeing. “Finally what?” Sehun asks. He walks towards Baekhyeon, discarding his blazer on the way. He puts the box on the table. He kicks Baekhyeon’s balled up socks away from the edge of the couch – they have a tendency to disappear under it, never to be found again.

“You’re home,” Baekhyeon says, same tone, same fray.

He bends to kiss Baekhyeon’s forehead. He grins into it. Tastes like Baekhyeon, feels like Baekhyeon,  _ is _ Baekhyeon. He palms the side of his face. It’s damp. The peaks of his cheeks burn. Under his lips, on his forehead, another burn.

“You’re burning up,” he says, feeling Baekhyeon’s face with his palm. He can’t quite tell like this. He presses his cheek to Baekhyeon’s, to his forehead, the side of his neck. “Are you feeling sick?”

Because he knows sometimes his pastime when he has colds or flus, is touching himself. What else is there to do when bedridden and life sucks. For him, colds are usually foretold a few days before through a weak headache. He was fine yesterday, and the day before that. But he had saida few weeks ago that people at work were sick, and some of them have not recovered fully yet.

Baekhyeon whines, “Not sick,” he wiggles, until he can lock eyes with Sehun. They’re but a mayhem of darks, no trace of their usual auric incandescence. His lower lip juts out, eating the upper one, until only the two points of his cupid’s bow are visible. “Just needy.  _ Very _ needy.” His eyes flutter as Sehun brushes his fingers through his hair. Damp at the roots. “Thought about you all day. Wanted you all day.”

“Oh, really?” Sehun asks, teasing.

Baekhyeon doesn’t even care for that, nodding, gasping – his hand is still working inside himself – as he peers, pleadingly, at Sehun. “I almost pulled my pants down and fingered myself at the office.”

Sehun caresses the sides of his face, pulling his hair away. His breathing is uneven, jumpy.

“Did you?”

“No, but I went to the bathroom.”

Sehun runs his palm up his chest, uncovering a nipple from his bunched up turtleneck. He circles it with a fingertip. “You didn’t send me anything.”

He’s done  that before. He has a mini-exhibitionism kink, not enough that they’d ever engage in actual public sex, but he does like getting a bit naughty in semi-public spaces. He takes pictures and videos. Pictures up the leg of his shorts in summer, down the open collar of his shirt, a three second video of his hard cock tucked under the waistband of his slacks at work, of slight, unobservable smothering of his erection with his thighs as he has his legs crossed in a meeting. Pictures of come on his lithesome fingers, in focus over the backdrop of a bathroom stall.

“Wanted to wait for you.”

Sehun kisses him, dissolves that pout with his lips. A light little meeting, but fraught with sentiment.

“Did anything happen? Did I do something?” Sehun asks, curious. He cannot think of anything that might’ve caused Baekhyeon to be like this. They had sex two days ago, made out last night on and off for the whole duration of the movie they watched. Not like Sehun left on some three-week long business trip. Not like he recently wore any of those short skirts that Baekhyeon loves so much on him. There was no neglect, and no riling. So why.

“You’re just so hot,” he says, among the soft squelches of their smooch. “Can’t I be horny for my super duper extra hot boyfriend?” He’s  _ offended _ . Sehun backtracks, twitter on his tongue.

“You can.”

“And I  _ am _ ,” Baekhyeon nods, licking over Sehun’s lips, once, hard, to assert some sort of dominance. Horny dominance. Needy dominance.

“You’re so hot,” Sehun says back, sliding his hand down the middle of his abdomen. He pinches around his belly button. Baekhyeon tenses, cock brushing by the side of Sehun’s palm. He moves his hips for more.

“I’m literally hot while you’re metaphorically hot and I believe one is less sexy than the other.”

“For a needy baby, you’re talking too much,” Sehun says, kissing his forehead once more before he grabs the hem of his turtleneck. It’s thin, soft, but too much for the weather – it hasn’t broken into the chillness of fall yet. He must’ve been really warm in it. And he also can’t take it off himself because both of his hands are now dirty with lube.

Baekhyeon whines again, and makes to touch Sehun – it’s obvious he wants to – but just stretches his arms over his head for Sehun to do the work. He’s helpless. Utterly helpless. Sehun smiles, heart merry, and coos at him like it’s Mongryeong getting stuck under the coffee table. He always gets stuck under the coffee table, his legs too short to be able to go over the bars. He urges Baekhyeon to raise his shoulders off the couch, and tugs at his turtleneck. Baekhyeon balls his slimy, lubey hands into little fists to protect it as much as possible as Sehun tugs it over his head. His hair is a little storm of curls. Sehun kisses him on the forehead again. Because Baekhyeon loves forehead kisses and Sehun loves kissing his forehead.

“Are you going to stay like this?” Baekhyeon, who is fully nude, asks. “I want you so bad? In case you didn’t get the memo.” His eyes dart down, towards his wet cock, and the shiny insides of his thighs. His initial lubey hand is already down his body, swirling shallow inside himself. His cock is not even fully hard, which means he’s been going at this for a while.

This is not new but not quite common either. Sehun sits next to him, in the thin sliver of the couch left. “Is this all really because you think I’m hot?” he asks, once more. “Are you sure nothing happened?” He kisses down his face, edging on his lips.

“Nothing happened,” Baekhyeon reiterates, and he wiggles close to Sehun, clambering his head on his thigh. He’s worming his face towards Sehun’s crotch.

“Mongryeong does that better than you,” Sehun tsks, purposefully closing his legs. Not too much though, he has been growing in his underwear from the second he laid eyes on Baekhyeon. He could’ve even been dressed, playing a game or something, and the same thing would’ve happened. He’s quite hard now, as much as he could be without any actual stimulation.

Baekhyeon keeps wiggling, closer and closer.

Neither of them have yet gotten used to how Mongryeong seems to really like cuddling between their legs, nuzzling right into their balls. They still yelp. He does it a little less now, but they don’t quite know how to teach him not to do it anymore. Maybe it will go away once puppy puberty hits.

Baekhyeon looks up at him, disdainfully, nose  _ almost _ touching Sehun’s bulge. “Did you really have to bring up our  _ son _ while I’m here  _ dying _ for your cock?”

“My lord,” Sehun laughs, giving in. He guides Baekhyeon’s head off his thighs to get up and undo his pants. They’re the light wash denim ones that Baekhyeon thinks make Sehun’s hips and ass look  _ scrumptious _ . Which is why he’s staring, excitement afire in his gaze, as Sehun fiddles with the button and the zipper, to take them off. He only drags them down a little bit before—

“Enough, enough,” Baekhyeon bursts, getting up, putting a sticky hand on Sehun’s hip, and bringing him in to faceplant very firmly, and violently, into Sehun’s crotch. He sighs, so loud, and so hot, that Sehun quivers from the mist of his breath seeping through the fabric of his underwear. He wiggles his face along the coil of Sehun’s entrapped dick. “My precious,” he says, in mangled English. His hands migrates to it, cupping him firmly, pressing it more along his face. “I finally got you,” he continues. “My  _ precioussss _ .”

Sehun laughs, and moans too, and laughs again. Baekhyeon sneaks fingers underneath the waistband, taking his cock out, and faceplanting right back into it. “Hello,” he greets it, before he takes it in his mouth.  

Sehun yelps, accidentally pushing into it instead of away from it. Baekhyeon chokes, but doesn’t distance himself.

It’s the sloppiest thing. A bit toothy and superficial, tongue confused, overloud slurps, but  _ so _ much ardor and delight, as he chirps with pleasure around it. Sehun’s luxuriation of it isn’t for the procedure itself, but for Baekhyeon’s zeal, because he sounds like he’s having the time of his life whilst being keen on giving Sehun the time of his life.

He’s fully hard, and leaking, Baekhyeon’s distended, raw lips wearing the gloss of his precome.

“I’m too horny to do it properly,” Baekhyeon says, looking up at him, eyes floppy with remorse. “After I waited for you for so long,” he laments further, looking back to his cock. “I’m sorry.” With that, he dives right back into it, taking him almost to the hilt.

Sehun only lets out a sibilant of his laughter before he gags on a sob, because Baekhyeon stays there, and  _ stays _ , his throat convulsing slightly, until Sehun pulls him back by the shoulder. “You were doing well,” he says, seeing how Baekhyeon’s eyes are watering a bit, followed by a silent coughing fit. “No need for this.”  

He can do it. Ambition sometimes overrides his gag reflex. But not always, and it’s not worth it to force himself, not when it’s so deeply uncomfortable. Sehun doesn’t like seeing this.

Baekhyeon swallows, licks his lips, swallows again. “You’re delicious,” he croaks, not an answer to anything.

Sehun smiles. This position isn’t good, with Baekhyeon craning his neck at an odd angle, and supporting his weight on his forearm. He discards his pants entirely, and sits down on the couch, sliding his legs on either side of Baekhyeon’s prostrated form. Baekhyeon immediately snuggles into his crotch, cheek pillowed on the side of Sehun’s thigh. “Your shirt too,” he says, hand sliding under the hem, and reaching as far as it can, which is Sehun’s left pectoral. He moulds his palm around it, and lets it be. It feels like he’s holding Sehun’s heart in his hand. Sehun relishes in this feeling for a few seconds before he begins undoing his button shirt. He slides it off. Now they’re both nude – save for Sehun’s socks. Which will stay, least they’ll end up eaten by the monster under the couch.

“Pretty,” Baekhyeon utters, eyes guiding along the length of Sehun’s body.

“Prettier,” Sehun replies, gazing at Baekhyeon. His physique is so melodious. To the eye, to the touch, he’s superb.

His squished cheeks pinken even more as he turns to hide himself into Sehun’s cock. He kisses along it, mouth opened wide, tongue frolicking. Sehun sighs, massages his nape, small circles, kind, mellow. He wraps his lips around the tip, sucking lazily. It’s so good. He could be literally blowing on it too, and Sehun would still love it. Just because he’s the one doing it.

He only goes as far down as he can without triggering his gag reflex. Which is not much, but Sehun can’t stop moving into it. Baekhyeon smiles, pulling off, right when Sehun sped up a little.

“Are you into this?” Baekhyeon asks, getting up, bending over him, cock in hand, stroking lightly but with purpose. He knows exactly what Sehun likes. “Or am I too needy?”

They refused each other sex sometimes. It’s normal. They can’t always be in the mood, can’t always sync. And even though there is an imbalance between them right now, it’s not of significance.

“I want this,” Sehun says, gasping mid-sentence because Baekhyeon squeezes around him just a bit tighter. “I want you.”

Baekhyeon simpers, and kisses him, the longest, the deepest yet. Sehun melts into it, loses himself, finds himself. When it ends, Baekhyeon is still grinning. He descends back to Sehun’s cock, to give it a few more pecks.

“If you came any later I would’ve fucked myself with my own dick,” he says, lips puckered over the corona.

They saw that in a porno recently. It left them in awe. Truly an admirable skill to be this sexually self-sufficient.

“But what if you broke it in the process?” Sehun questions. Because it also looked like a visit to the ER waiting to happen.

“What if I broke it?” Baekhyeon asks with pointy, pointy sarcasm.

“My ass would’ve been so, so sad. Absolutely devastated. Didn’t you think about that?”

“ _ My _ ass is currently devastated. It’s been weeping all day.” He reaches behind himself, and taps at his hole. It makes that specific squelchy sound that is both strangely erotic and irrefutably hilarious. Sehun laughs, cock throbbing. But it does sound like he’s extra wet. When he looks at the bottle of lube discarded between the cushions of the couch, he notices it’s the one they used only once. And now nearly half of it is gone. “Don’t you feel bad for it?” Baekhyeon asks.

“I do,” Sehun acquiesces. He even noticed that the fingertips of Baekhyeon’s right hand are a bit wrinkly. He fingered himself for  _ that _ long. So of course, Sehun feels bad.  

“Then please fuck it now,” Baekhyeon says, puppy eyes on full blast, corners of his lips downturned.

Sehun is very,  _ very _ weak for that. “Come here,” he says, rearranging himself so he’s sitting properly on the couch, back to the rest. He also places the twisted towel that Baekhyeon was using underneath himself, because they are about to make a mess.

Baekhyeon climbs into his lap, his slippery butt settling on Sehun’s thighs. Baekhyeon smiles at him from up there. He likes this position a lot, because they fit better in kisses, with him slightly above lip-level with Sehun.

They kiss as Sehun slots himself between his cheeks. Baekhyeon grinds on it, zealous, hasty, teeth into Sehun’s lip, until he whines for more. Sehun reaches to take a hold of himself, and guide the head of his cock over his sensitivity. It’s so slippery, so softened, elasticated with arousal. A small movement, an alignment, and then he slips in.

“Yes yes, my  _ god _ ,” Baekhyeon groans, jewels on a string, willow in his chest. His eyes flitter closed, his sighs long, “Yes yes yes  _ yes _ .”

Sehun kisses his neck, kisses his chest, his collarbones, nips on his ear.

“I love cock,” Baekhyeon moans, wiggles, shimmies, settles, takes all of him. Sehun can’t quite breathe, feels so much that he almost feels nothing. He kisses Baekhyeon’s mouth, and pulls back to inhale.

Baekhyeon snaps his eyes open, looks straight at Sehun. “ _ Your _ cock.” He hums, so, so pleased. “Not that I’ve tried others, but I am sure that, objectively, your cock is the best ever created.”

Sehun rolls his eyes, and preens. Because he loves this kind of praise, and Baekhyeon  _ knows _ it, which is why he’s laying it so thick. “Flattery will, indeed, get you fucked,” Sehun says, thrusting up into him.

“Yes,” Baekhyeon moans again, louder, longer, as he writhes on top of Sehun. Sehun chokes, squirming himself, enjoying it himself, so much that he cannot hear his own moan as it dovetails Baekhyeon’s. Baekhyeon meets his subsequent thrusts, and in a blink, he begins chanting the opposite. “Wait, fuck,  _ no _ ,” he gasps. “No no no no, ahhhh.”

He hisses through his teeth, and he raises himself off Sehun just a little. “I didn’t wait all day for this to come in less than a minute.  _ No _ .”

Sehun laughs, which makes him shake, which jolts his cock inside Baekhyeon who— “Don’t, don’t—” his eyes roll back, fingers digging into Sehun’s shoulder. He cries out, now with complete petulance. “I can’t come right now. I won’t. I  _ refuse _ .” It’s spoken into Sehun’s ear, but it’s for himself, as he gets farther and farther up his cock until it almost slips out. “I’m not coming now.”

Sehun smiles. This is cute. It’s cute and adulatory in such a deep level, that Baekhyeon wants him this much, that he would come so soon on him, everything about this has his heart growing in his chest until his ribs almost give, crack under the pressure. He absently massages Baekhyeon’s ass cheeks. They’re soft. Delightful. Baekhyeon hums on his shoulder.  

“I’m cold,” Sehun says after a while of Baekhyeon keeping just the tip inside, as a means of teasing, as he fingers around his rim. It’s puffy, spongy, yielding. He dips his finger inside, only a fraction. Baekhyeon trembles, violent, a gasp too, when Sehun takes a hold of his cock too with his other hand. It’s hard, too hard almost, like it shouldn’t be. The pulsation is crisp, strong. “Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t,” Baekhyeon begs.

“I said I’m cold,” Sehun stresses, and it’s more than just because of the minute discomfort of cool air hitting his wet cock.

“Put a sweater on it.”

“Your ass is the sweater.”

“True,” Baekhyeon says. He pulls away from his shoulder. He’s flushed, the twinkle of perspiration along his hairline. Sehun pulls his bangs behind his ear. They’re damp enough to stick there. “I’ll be a good sweater now.”

He takes one deep breath in, and sits all the way down. It knocks the air out of Sehun, who muffles himself into a bite on Baekhyeon’s chest. He quivers. Sehun can barely abstain himself from moving. Because it feels intense, incessant, a pressure and an itch, and he  _ needs  _ to move but Baekhyeon’s small whimpers stop him from doing so.

“I think I will need some distraction,” Baekhyeon says, teeth in his lip. “How are you? How was your day?” he asks.

Sehun giggles, smile poking into his cheeks. Great tactic. Baekhyeon smiles back.

“I missed you,” Sehun says before kissing the rosy bonbon of his mouth again. Lightly, because Baekhyeon responds, hot and eager, before he whines again and pulls back. He did come, once, just from them making out.

And a few years ago Baekhyeon would reply with “You just saw me yesterday.” You just saw me this morning, you just saw me an hour ago, a minute ago. But now he knows it doesn’t matter. Because to Sehun, anything and everything without Baekhyeon is incomplete, awry.

“I missed you,” Baekhyeon says back. Not I missed you  _ too _ , because it’s not a thing about sameness, but an ever-present, level thing.

Sehun kisses him again. It’s dulcet, emotive. Sehun can’t stop wanting it, having it. He wraps his arms around Baekhyeon’s waist to bring him in, as close as he could be. Baekhyeon titters into the kiss, toying with his tongue a little more, before he pulls away, breathless.

“What did you bring?”

“Bao.”

“What kind?”

“Pulled pork.”

“ _ Oh my god _ . With the chili oil?”

There is a bao place nearby that is good, but there is a place farther away, which takes quite a detour, that makes them  _ fantastic _ , and they have this chili oil that Baekhyeon  _ adores _ , which is something, because he can’t stand super spicy things. His eyes sparkle.

“Yes.”

“Damn, we need to get this fuck over with so we can eaaat—” and he does just one grind on Sehun before he chokes on his words, “Wait, no, no, just a little more,” he yips. “Why is your cock so good, this is  _ all _ your fault.”

“Sue me.”

“No, because how will you make me come from prison, huh?”

“Well, I’m not making you come now either, so what’s the difference?”

“Soon,” Baekhyeon nods at him, promises. “Soon. Just a bit…let me feel this.” He noses along Sehun’s neck, lips puckered, trailing on his shoulder. “This fat cock of yours that I couldn’t stop thinking about. Let me be a little.”

Why does he sound so sentimental over dick. Sehun just. Loves him. A lot. A lot lot lot lot lot— he kisses him, exhaustive and daring.

“Your hair is so fried,” Sehun says, tangling his fingers into it as they kiss. He got it permed just last weekend, and he was warned that it would damage it, and the texture would be coarse, at least until he gets to use the special hair mask he was recommended a few times. Sehun gathers what he can from the top of his head and pulls it into a little pony tail. It makes for a curly little cloud. Sehun coos.

“If you love crispy fried chicken you are obligated to love my crispy fried hair too,” Baekhyeon replies, leaving no room for argument.

“I love crispy fried chicken and I love your crispy fried hair,” Sehun avows solemnly.

“And me. You love me too,” Baekhyeon says, in the same monotone timbre.

“But you’re not crispy and fried,” Sehun argues.

“Well, does that mean you don’t love me then?”

Sehun pinches his nipple. Then pecks it too because he feels bad for how red he made it. “Maybe,” he says.

“Unbelievable,” Baekhyeon yawps, stooping to bite onto Sehun’s shoulder.

Sehun laughs, releasing his hair, and running his hand up and down his spine. He kisses wherever his lips can reach on Baekhyeon. His other hand dips again to where they’re joined, pressing gently. Baekhyeon groans low in his throat.

“Really nothing happened?” Sehun asks for the nth time. He feels like he’s missing something. Like this has to have more of a justification.

Baekhyeon looks at him. A shake of his head, messy curls bouncing.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Baekhyeon confirms.

He’s patient as ever. Sehun has no reason to question this any further. And it irks him that even though he has no reason to question it, the suspicion is still not out of his head.

“Just shut up,” he bemoans suddenly, turning them over, Baekhyeon’s back to the couch, legs up over Sehun’s shoulders, and thrusts into him.

Baekhyeon lets out a shout of surprise, a  _ pleasured _ shout of surprise, but doesn’t fight it, no more  _ no no no _ , no more waiting.

Now they fuck. For real. Baekhyeon is loud, way louder than the loud that he has been thus far. Laughter marbles into it, when Sehun, from the corner of his eye, sees that the door to the bedroom is ajar, and whispers “Mongryeong” to Baekhyeon, who immediately slaps a hand over his mouth because surely they wouldn’t want their baby son waking up and barging in on their dads fucking like this, that would be  _ traumatic _ . Baekhyeon titters behind his palm, eyes shaped into demilunes, as Sehun works inside of him, fast, precise, because they’ve had enough delay, enough slow, enough sloppy. He’s pliant, docile, surrendered to his pleasure.

It doesn’t take a minute, but not a lot longer than that either. Baekhyeon is already closing in on him, already trembling, and Sehun calibrates his pace to drag it just a little more, elongate the edge, so that when he tips, it’s not as brutal, it’s a bit of a smoother transition. Which is exactly how it happens, signalled by a slight quickening of his hips, then flowing through him, a continuance of broad tremors and clipped gasps, nails scribbling on Sehun’s back, his cock spasming, spilling between their tummies.

“Don’t stop,” he pants into Sehun’s shoulder, as tension begins leaving his body. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, Sehunnie.”

Normally, he would pull out now, and finish somehow else. But Baekhyeon won’t let him, ankles locked on the small of his back, hands not releasing their grasp. Sehun moans, and keeps going. He doesn’t chase it just because Baekhyeon came already. It’s not over for him anyway, it seems, for he’s still moaning softly, still pushing himself into Sehun. He’s sensitive, but not oversensitive. He caresses the side of Sehun’s face when he drops into the crook of his neck, moving, nearing, nearing, enjoying.

When Sehun comes, it’s short, but condensed, focalized, so much so that he can’t hold himself up anymore, and collapses into Baekhyeon, gasping. The climax itself might’ve been short-lived, but the aftershocks last, prolong, diffuse throughout him. He relaxes into embracive contentment. Baekhyeon is peppering his temple, his cheek, his jaw with raucous, damp pecks. They tickle. Sehun doesn’t have the strength to giggle for a few more heartbeats, then he does, and he giggles his way into Baekhyeon’s kiss.

It’s a playful one, all tactic and teasing. They only break apart when Sehun wins the mini-duel of their tongues.

Baekhyeon smiles at him.

But this— this smile is hefty, momentous, more lip, more tooth, more cheek, more Baekhyeon, too happy,  _ too _ happy, and this is when it hits Sehun, this is when he realizes—

“You saw the ring.”

They slept at Sehun’s place last night. In the morning, Sehun left for work before Baekhyeon woke up. And socks, his socks, he spilled some of the red wine they had, and stepped into the puddle, got his socks wet. Sehun washed them for him, by hand, as he washed the dishes for their dinner. But when they dried and the stain was still there, Sehun threw them in the washing machine before leaving.

He took socks from Sehun’s drawer. Where the box was because as cliché as it was, he couldn’t think of a better place to put it.

And now all of this, it happened before, to some extent, because he remembers, the first time he realized he loved Sehun he was like this, so lustful, mindless, delirious with it, and after they met each other’s parents, all of them at once, and it went well, and they were okay, they were  _ accepted  _ to some degree, and he was so stupidly happy about it that he began taking Sehun’s clothes off and grinding on him and moaning in his mouth before they even got off the elevator and made it to his apartment. Because a greatly elated Baekhyeon is a horny Baekhyeon.

“You saw the ring,” he says again, now without a doubt.

Baekhyeon’s lips are bitten, both by himself and by Sehun, of a vivid red, and tucked into the smallest, heaviest smile. It means so much that Sehun’s head spins.

He wreathes his arms around Sehun’s shoulders. He holds Sehun’s gaze, steady, serene.

“If you want me to have seen it, I did. If you don’t want me to, I didn’t.”

Sehun’s skin prickles, needles and nails, the onset of a numbness. He doesn’t know what to answer, what to say. He only knows that this whole ordeal, in the end, doesn’t mean anything. It cannot mean anything, not here, at this time, in this socio-political climate. But it meant something for him. He thought about it. He wanted it.

He doesn’t know, though, what Baekhyeon thinks of it. He appreciates being given a choice like this – whether to have his plans unravelled now, or take his time, and present them to Baekhyeon when he feels ready.

“Did you want to see it?” Sehun asks. Was it a pleasant surprise, an unpleasant surprise, an indifferent surprise.

Baekhyeon leans after him – Sehun didn’t even realize he was pulling away, and now is almost reaching the armrest on the opposite side of the couch. It’s a short couch. In a movement, they end up with Baekhyeon on top of him, Sehun’s back on the rest, still joined.

Baekhyeon puts his hands on Sehun’s chest, no weight. “Is it for someone else?”  That’s not even a possibility, and it’s obvious in the way he poses it, feathery, incorporeal, that he thinks the same.

“It’s for you,” Sehun confirms anyway.

Baekhyeon’s fingers dig, a bit. He looks down, then back at Sehun. His expression is ponderous, opaque.

“When did you get it?”

He could say it in days. Months. Or just the event that pushed him to it. “July the fifth.”

“Oh, that’s…” Baekhyeon starts. “The day after Jongin’s wedding.”

They’re at the age where all their friends are getting married. They had four weddings this year. Three the previous one, at least two coming up in spring. Most of the couples had been together for less time than them. They have five years spent together. And they can’t do it.

His eyes soften, soften, until they’re molten, but liquid love. “For how much longer did you plan on keeping it hidden?”

Sehun would have given him one years ago.

But it’s stupid. It’s just stupid. Because it cannot do anything.

They have given each other jewellery. Sehun got him a bracelet, a silver, thin chain with a little star charm. He’s wearing it all the time. He’s wearing it right now.

Baekhyeon got Sehun an earring, to fill the piercing he got during his teenage rebellion phase, which Baekhyeon found hot –  _ you’re my bad boy _ . So he wanted Sehun to still wear something. It’s small, almost invisible, an X made of white sliver, but it’s there, and Baekhyeon plays with it whenever he can, massaging around the nub in the lobe. Sehun is wearing it right now.

So they did that. They gave each other things that meant belonging.

But Sehun wanted this ring to mean what it means for… _ normal _ people. For people who can get married.

He can give it to him now, just give it, but he can’t ask anything. No  _ will you marry me _ , because Baekhyeon  _ can’t _ marry him.

Which is why he’d been keeping it in that drawer for almost two months. “It’s stupid,” he says.

It’s really so stupid. It’s not even something desirable, it’s not even anything of value, why did Sehun even bother, why does he even think about this.

Not like they haven’t called each other husband before. They can call each other anything they want. Any variation of the term.

But Sehun just wonders what it would be like to call each other husband and for it to be veridic too, to be true. Not in jest, not a tease, not just a wish.

Maybe what attracts Sehun to the idea is something about the ambiance, about all the flowers and the sparkly eyes, the festivity. How good Baekhyeon looks in his fitted silk suit – they have matching ones too, the colour stitching matching the fabric of Baekhyeon’s and vice versa. It’s subtle, but it’s there, their togetherness.

They clapped for so many couples, congratulated so many of them, but when will people clap for them too, when will they be congratulated too.

They can wear that suit any day, and they can gather up their friends any night, go to the noraebang, sing a duet, end it with a kiss, and their friends would clap and would cheer and it could  _ almost _ pass for a wedding. But it still wouldn’t be a wedding.

“Stupid?” Baekhyeon asks. He dives in with a couple of belligerent smackeroos, on his cheeks, then lips, then cheeks, the forehead, then lips. He’s scolding Sehun. With his kisses. “How is it stupid?”

Sehun is quiet. Because he doesn’t have to say any of this. They never talked about it, and this is exactly why – because Baekhyeon, too, knows it all. All the pointlessness.

“You want to husband me up,” he says, and it sounds broken, but the best kind of broken, strenuous, heartsome, gorgeous. Sehun’s heart stings.

“I do,” he admits in a blink. “I want to husband you up.”

Baekhyeon sighs through another lib bite. It fences a smile, a smile that is flourishing, maturing confession by confession from Sehun.

“That makes me so happy, and you call it stupid?” He blinks, rapid, eyes glinting.

Did Sehun hurt him with that. Or is it something else.

“Not stupid but just—” he can’t think of another term. “It just won’t—”

He still has nothing. He peers at Baekhyeon, stuck, asking for understanding in his silence.

Baekhyeon massages the back of Sehun’s neck, absent, mollescent. “The thought of it is the most we can have.”

He’s right. He’s, unfortunately, right. “Yes,” Sehun utters.

“Then let’s have that, at least,” Baekhyeon pleads.

They don’t need anyone’s approval to be engaged. To be promised. There’s no ceremony, no papers, no legality to it, but  _ so what _ . It’s the most that they can have, why not go for it.

“Okay,” Sehun says, placing his hand over Baekhyeon’s. His left hand. Where the ring will be.

Baekhyeon beams, sudden, humongous and sprightly. He kisses Sehun, a flurry of smacks, ending with one slow, profound meld. This is his  _ yes _ . Without anything being asked, this is his  _ yes _ , and Sehun can barely contain such glorious felicity within. “Did you make a speech?” Baekhyeon asks, pulling away just a fraction.

“I did,” Sehun says, giggling into his chest.

“You can tell it to me now.”

“I don’t have the ring on me.”

“We don’t need it.”

“My come is currently leaking out of your ass.”

“There is literally no better time.”

Sehun blanks out. He had lines. He thought about them every day ever since he bought it, looked it up on the internet too, gathered the most meaningful parts of their relationship thus far, practiced everything in front of the mirror a couple of times and now, when he has to say it, he doesn’t remember any of it.

Because there’s only one thing, that at last, matters. “I love you.”

Baekhyeon stares at him, long, boundless. “I think that needed a little cleaning up,” he says, offhand, but his lip is trembling, and his eyes — he covers them with his palms. He nestles into Sehun’s neck, arms around his torso. He embraces Sehun tightly. Dearly. “I’ll be with you until your ass hairs go grey.”  

Sehun buries his nose into Baekhyeon’s shoulder. He squeezes him back. “What about after that?”

“I’ll be with you until they fall off too.”

Sehun shuts his eyes. And breathes in. Baekhyeon.  _ His _ Baekhyeon. And says, once more, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Baekhyeon bursts, doing a little dance, “So so so so  _ sooo _ much,” he cheeps through a boxy, oversized smile, and Sehun just feels so content, joyous, at home. They kiss, for hours, perhaps, until their chests burn.

“Please get off my cock now, I think it’s starting to prune up,” Sehun says once they break apart.

Baekhyeon laughs. “I’ll be with you until it prunes up from old age anyway,” he says, but he does get up now. He’s messy with Sehun’s mess. It’s an enthralling sight. He fixates on it for a while longer before he grabs an edge of the towel under them and dabs at their collective stickiness.

Baekhyeon twitches as Sehun prods around his hole with the fabric, nearly kneeing Sehun in the face. He takes it from him and takes care of Sehun too. “That goes straight into the trash,” he says, balling up the poor towel. Couldn’t have a fuck without a casualty. Sehun nods. Baekhyeon extricates from him, and they stand up, face to face.

“I want it now,” Baekhyeon says. “Put it on me now.” He looks at Sehun, imploring, impatient.

“Right now?” Sehun asks.

“Right now,” he affirms, firm and desirous.

“Okay. Let’s go.” There’s no reason not to. If he wants it now, he will have it now. Except—”We really need a shower.”

Baekhyeon frowns, like he didn’t even think about that. “We can have it later at your place because you’re going to fuck me senseless once we get there anyway,” he says, nodding, convincing himself that that is a sound course of action.

Sehun knew an entire day of sexual frustration wouldn’t end with just one orgasm. And he is into that. But this is also not quite ideal.

“So we’re going to have engagement sex while I am also aware it’s engagement sex.”

“Yes,” Baekhyeon says, grabbing his turtleneck. They’re not going to soil a fresh set of clothes now. Okay. They can do it like this. “ _ Wild _ engagement sex.”

Sehun titters, because  _ wild _ , to Baekhyeon, just means intensely vanilla, all kissy and caressive and lazy and  _ I love you _ . He can’t wait. “Let’s go,” he says, looking for his clothes.

Baekhyeon already pulled his cloudy head through the neck of his shirt. He pulls on his underwear too, which was hanging on the corner of the coffee table. “Tomorrow,” he starts, turning back towards Sehun. “First thing in the morning, I’m going to get yours. I picked it out a long while ago, but I didn’t get it.”

Sehun halts as he’s smoothing down the collar of his shirt. “You thought about this?”

Baekhyeon reaches to do the remaining buttons for him. “Of course I did.”

“Why didn’t you get it?”

“Because at the time I thought of it I wasn’t…sure about you.” And before Sehun gets to ask, in what way, did he think he made a bad decision to be with Sehun, was he displeased with their relationship— ”I wasn’t sure you’d accept it.”

“ _ Oh _ .”

How early was it that it wasn’t obvious how much he meant to Sehun, how much he loved him. Was there even a time when Baekhyeon wasn’t everything for him.

“That’s stupid,” Sehun says. His eyes burn. Just a little. A little more than just a little.

Baekhyeon hits his shoulder, made only of approval and no force. “Yeah. Super stupid.” He gets on his tiptoes, cups his face, and kisses Sehun. “I’m so happy that you were sure of me.”

Sehun can’t deny that. He was sure. Maybe because of delusion, of his own wanting for it, but he was sure that Baekhyeon would accept it, for one meaning or another.

He kisses Baekhyeon, hands on his hips, chest to chest. Close. How he should always be. “Just so you know, I’m expecting a speech.”

Baekhyeon titters. “I’ll present you with three versions. And I’ll get on my knees.”

“I think you’re supposed to go down just to one knee.”

“I’ll go to both of them, because I love you  _ that _ much.”

“Why do I have a feeling this proposal will be a blowjob,” Sehun says, eyes narrow with suspicion.

“Well, of course a blowjob will be included, I offer  _ excellent _ husband service.” Pause. “Unlike  _ you _ .”

Sehun scoffs. “Are you serious, weren’t you  _ just _ complaining about how my cock is too good?” Sehun digs his fingers into his ass cheeks, for extra ass-y emphasis.

“You didn’t make a  _ single _ point,” Baekhyeon counters, unimpressed, breaking away from him to grab his socks. “Now hurry up, we have to finish up the engagement thing before our son wakes up.” He fiddles with the socks.

Sehun rolls his eyes, pushes him to sit back on the couch, grabs his legs, and slides the socks on for him. “Or we could do it tomorrow when you have the ring too and have him as witness.”

“So he thinks he’s a baby had out of wedlock?” Baekhyeon asks, scandalized. “ _ No _ .”

Sehun laughs, pulling on Baekhyeon’s toe until he yelps. “Okay then,” he cedes. “You’re still pantless.”

“You’re pantless too,” Baekhyeon accuses, wrestling his legs out of Sehun’s hold, and ambling after his jeans. Still laughing, Sehun pulls on his too. He’s sticky. This is awful, but he doesn’t give a fuck, really, given how enthusiastic Baekhyeon is. They can be disgusting together.

“The pants are on too,” Baekhyeon says, marching towards the hallway. Sehun follows him, quick on his feet before Baekhyeon exclaims, “Take the bao, take the bao!” whisper-shouty, eyes round. Sehun dashes back to grab it, taking Baekhyeon’s denim jacket off the back of the armchair too – it will get cold later. Sehun slips his shoes on, tucks his shirt into his pants, as Baekhyeon is combing fingers through his hair, so they look at least mildly like they  _ didn’t _ just fuck. They’re presentable enough.

“Let’s go, husband,” Baekhyeon says, beaming, grabbing Sehun’s other hand, holding tight, and dragging him out.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> can u believe i FINALLY wrote sehun fucking baek whoaaaaa ain't you proud :3


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